


Study: Diamond City

by owlaholic68



Series: Fallout: Case Studies [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Senses, Short & Sweet, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: A week in the Jewel. Five senses.





	1. Sight: the market

“He doesn’t even _speak_ Japanese!” Curie complains, frowning down at her bowl of noodles. “These are quite exquisite noodles, though.”

Julia leans back in her stool with one foot on the ground. Her elbow is on the faded metal of the counter, residual flakes of bright red and yellow and blue paint giving little indication of this piece of scrap’s former purpose. “Whoever programmed him must have only had a cursory knowledge,” she comments.

Curie apparently doesn’t have anything in particular to say to that. She keeps tapping one elegant finger against the side of her cracked bowl, staring out at the darkening market. The string lights create a shimmering band of reflected light across the curve of her bouncy black hair. It’s blue-black in this light, that dark color giving her eyes a screen of dark pensiveness.

One of the strings of electric lights is candy pink. One of the bulbs is flickering, and a corner of Julia’s mind snarls at the sensory interruption in this serene scene. The pink light bounces off Takahashi’s dented and scratched body, and off the nearby signs for Diamond City Surplus and Doctor Sun’s surgery center. Other signs are lit up too, for hotels and restaurants.

They would put on the stadium lights when it got dark, but it almost certainly would take up too much power. But Julia is glad that they don’t, because it’s nice like this in the twilight, the setting sun draped across the edge of the Upper Stands and slowly slipping down. It’s vaguely romantic in the way that all of these rosy-sheened sunsets are these days, far from the light pollution of the past.

It’s that rare feeling of romance, of literally looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, that makes Julia put a hand on Curie’s cheek and turn her away from her food, pulling her into a kiss instead. When she pulls back, there’s a faint smile on Curie’s face, and each streak of light hitting her dark cheeks is like a painter’s touch of silver, a dab of bronze here and there, and the gentlest spark of gold across her eyes.

Julia decides that this is a perfect time to kiss her again.


	2. Sound: rhythmic

“What?” Piper yells, poking her head back into what could be generously considered the living room. It’s just the couch and a coffee table, really.

“I didn’t say anything!” Julia calls back, barely able to even hear herself over the steady hiss-thunk of the printing press in the adjoining room. “But are you almost done?”

“Yeah! I’ve just got the last two pages!” Piper ducks back into the printing room.

The noise reverberates through the floor and up Julia’s knees. The arms of the couch tremble, and even the pages of Julia’s book shake with every steady _thunk_ of the giant machine. It’s obnoxiously loud, but also calming in a way. No other outside noises can penetrate this wall of noise. Nothing can bother Julia in here.

She leans back and puts her feet up. Might as well get some reading done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know really nothing about what kind of press Piper has, so you know...creative liberties.


	3. Taste: The Dugout Inn

“Are you sure you don’t want-”

Julia holds up a hand to stop Vadim from continuing. “No. I’m sure. We’re good with just the food, thanks. It’s not that kind of night.”

To be fair, it’s _never_ that kind of an evening to try and stomach the Dugout Inn’s moonshine. But especially not tonight. Not with Curie and Piper at the table with her. It’s a soft night, but also a hearty one. Curie is eating a Mirelurk cake, Piper is eating Brahmin steak, and Julia is chowing down on some Radstag stew. All three of them also have glasses of wine and grilled corn on the cob.

Julia’s corn on the cob has a variety of spices to enhance the taste. She bites into the soft but firm corn, reveling in the sweet taste contrasted with the spice. There’s a smoky charred taste, the result of cooking the corn with the husks still on. Contrasted with the smooth taste of the warm stew, it’s the perfect comfort meal.

“How’s your Mirelurk cake?” She asks.

In answer, Curie delicately tears a piece off and dips it into the accompanying sauce. She offers it to Julia, who accepts.

It’s breaded and fried, gooey with melted cheese on top. The savory cake sits on a layer of rice, and the dipping sauce is smooth with the slightest hint of spice.

“As you can see, it is quite tasty.” Curie smiles at the contented expression on Julia’s face. “And you, Piper? Did Monsieur Vadim cook your food as you liked?”

Piper nods, her mouth full of food. She finishes chewing. “Yeah, he sure did. It’s, I don’t know, kind of smoky and full, like, rich. I don’t know how to describe it. But yeah, it’s good.”

“Good.” Julia reaches out and intertwines her fingers with Piper’s. “That’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @ Bethesda: please give me more info about fallout foods. Where is the creativity born from survival? Where is the culinary pizzazz?


	4. Touch: Comfortable

Soft leather crinkles under her knees as Julia stretches her legs out, then curls them to the side. This armchair has seen better days, as has most of the furnishings in the Detective Agency building.

“So they say the last known location was heading to the docks just out of Goodneighbor?” Julia asks, taking notes on a scratchy pad of paper with a two-inch-long pencil. Splinters of graphite and wood are digging into the inside joint of her index finger, and the outside heel of her hand is dry and itchy from the homemade paper.

“That’s right.” Nick Valentine is perched on the edge of the rusting desk, Ellie Perkins sitting in the chair behind him. “We suspect Mirelurks or the remnants of the Triggermen. Of course, they could have hit that nasty patch of raiders on the north bridge.” He shifts, the soft folds of his faded trench coat wrinkling with the motion.

“I can come with you,” Julia offers without even having to hear the question. Ellie gives her a grateful glance. After what happened with Nick last time he went on a mission, the other woman is visibly reassured that he’ll have backup in case of the worst.

“Thanks.” Nick stands and brushes imaginary dust off his slacks, his metallic hand swishing against the fabric. “I’m free tomorrow to look into it.”

Julia stands too. She immediately adjusts for the lopsided lilt of the heel of her left boot, and for the loose floorboard that nearly always catches her foot. The armchair whines from the lack of weight, the pliable fabric bouncing back to its original position.

Julia’s knee-length dress curls around her hips and grazes the backs of her thick thighs, the stiff collar laying flat and secure against her skin. This is one of her favorite dresses, made for going out on the town and relaxing. It’s soft and old, the light green broadcloth falling gracefully. The sleeves don’t tug down on her shoulders, the hem doesn’t ride up, and the buttons don’t come unbuttoned. What’s more, this is the first garment on which she’s applied ballistic weave. It adds a noticeable bit of weight to the dress, a firm press on her body.

Comfortable, cute, and able to take several bullets to the chest without injury: perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touch is always the hardest chapter to do of these!


	5. Smell: ink

Julia breathes in and feels more than smells the ink in the room. Piper’s bedroom is right above the print room, and that room’s odor permeates the whole building. Ink smell, smooth and slightly sweet, takes up residence in the back of Julia’s tongue.

It’s a smell she can taste too, both in the air and on Piper’s lips. She scrapes it from Piper’s ink-black hair, digging fingers into her scalp like that would make the ink run in thick rivulets down her neck. Piper whispers into her mouth, words that in another context could be taken down on paper with a pen, ink running across the page like a river flowing to sea.

Piper’s fingers are ink-stained, both physically and not. Ink has embedded itself into the grooves of her fingertips like an engraving, to keep for years and years. But it’s also in the way she taps her fingers up and into every crevasse of Julia’s body. Piper soaks herself like she’s ink, impossible to forget about and tenacious, impossible to get rid of.

Not that Julia would ever want to.

**Author's Note:**

> Have an idea for a settlement/area/quest in any of the Fallout games to continue this series? Come find me on [Tumblr](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment! I think I'm going to do Goodneighbor after this, but other than that???


End file.
